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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741379">run away with me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsun/pseuds/ohsun'>ohsun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Photographer Suh Youngho | Johnny, Recreational Drug Use, Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:27:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsun/pseuds/ohsun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten's wanderlust brings him to Johnny's doorstep one afternoon, asking if he wants to come along. </p><p>Johnny's never been good at saying no, so he follows Ten to Amsterdam - and maybe takes some pictures along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>163</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>run away with me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>warnings: recreational drug use (weed), mentions of sex work, kissing under the influence (of weed), alcohol</p><p>title from run away with me by carly rae jepsen. actually the entirety of this is very much inspired by the music video to that song.</p><p>thanks so much to ao3 user mkhhhx for helping me figure this out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hi,” </p><p>Ten is the last person Johnny expects to show up outside his bedroom this afternoon. He’s just woken up from a well-needed afternoon nap (early morning classes, a necessary evil) and is rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he opens the door.</p><p>“Can I come in?” </p><p>Ten, not newly awoken, slips in through the crack in the door before Johnny can answer. He helps himself to a pillow and sits down on his bed, sitting cross legged as he folds out his laptop. </p><p>“I was looking at flights,” Ten says, eyes narrowed down as he scrolls through a page, “and I found a really cheap one.” </p><p>“Flights where?” Johnny asks, sitting himself back down in bed. The mattress is still warm from his nap and he yawns tiredly. </p><p>“Amsterdam - you said you wanted to go,” </p><p>Johnny thinks he probably did. Like any exchange student in Europe, he wanted to benefit from cheap flights and cheaper hotels to enjoy the cultural highlights of the continent. He hadn’t invested into a new lens for his camera just for it to sit on his shelf and gather dust.</p><p>In practice that’s what ended up happening. The lens stares back at him dejectedly as he eyes it, unused save for those first few days of his exchange in London. </p><p>He’d met Ten on one of those days, stuck with the same grad student forced to cater the exchange student city tours. They didn’t have much in common other than feeling lonely in a foreign continent and had bonded over just that. Ten was an art major, which meant he didn’t even share a faculty - let alone any classes with him. Their paths crossed at parties sometimes and they texted each other to inquire about exchange student issues, but not often enough to warrant a surprise visit at six p.m. </p><p>“Sure,” Johnny offers casually. He hadn’t travelled half the trips he planned before going on exchange and Amsterdam was a good place to start as any. </p><p>“Cool, so it’s £32 per person, and it’s tonight at ten thirty,” Ten reads out loud from his laptop, “I can book us a hostel for like £30 a night.” </p><p>“Wait, go back a little-” Johnny frowns. </p><p>“I mean we can do a hotel, but it’d be more expensive - and we’ll just be sleeping there anyways.” </p><p>“Go back to the part where you say it’s <em>tonight</em>,” Johnny deadpans.</p><p>“Yeah it’s in four hours,” Ten adds casually. </p><p>He knows Ten isn’t crazy and that he feigns ignorance. One sharp look from Johnny slices right through it. </p><p>“I know, it’s in four hours - but I already packed my bag, and we don’t have to be at the airport until two hours before the flight, so you have plenty of time to pack.” </p><p>“I have fifty-five minutes,” Johnny says.</p><p>“So that’s a yes?” </p><p>Johnny looks at him for a moment. </p><p>He has a paper due on monday and his plans for the weekend had consisted of that and maybe some Fifa, if he could sync his timezone with Jaehyun’s messed up California sleeping schedule. </p><p>Amsterdam admittedly sounded much better - but also kind of <em>insane</em> to decide on so last minute. </p><p>“Come on, if we don’t go now, then we’ll never go. Everyone always says they’ll go travelling when they come to Europe, but then they <em>never</em> actually travel.”</p><p>Johnny didn’t really need any convincing, but he enjoys the pouting look Ten gives him.</p><p>He takes a deep breath, smiling to himself as he shakes his head. </p><p>“Okay, fuck it, let’s go,” he decides. </p><p>Ten squeals in excitement, quickly returning to his laptop to arrange the details of their flight. For which they have to leave in fifty-five minutes. Johnny’s brain finally catches up with that and he gets to his feet. </p><p>He packs a duffle bag with a change of clothes, his passport, a toothbrush and a charger. Finally he takes his camera off the shelf, turning it on to see if it’s complete and functioning. The batteries aren’t fully charged but it’s not like they don’t have sockets in Europe, so he thinks it’s suitable to go.</p><p>Giving it a test, he snaps a photo of Ten sitting cross legged on his bed, still too focused on his laptop to notice. </p><p>They print out their tickets in the campus library. Ten has no balance on his printing account so he has to email the files to Johnny, who prints them back to back accidentally. The chaos of their spontaneity follows them every step, Ten nearly forgetting his bag in the library from which they head straight to the train station. </p><p>They’re at the airport thirty minutes later, rushing past old ladies and slow walking families to make it to security in time. Their flight leaves in less than an hour but Johnny’s been fooled by Hearthrow’s enormous walking distances once before, so they say they’re very sorry but that they’re in a hurry and skip ahead of the people in the queue. </p><p>It’s not until they’re actually sat outside the gate that Johnny realises this is actually kind of <em>insane</em>.</p><p>“I know,” Ten says, equally as breathless from the sprint they just pulled to get to the gate in time. “I know, but it’s fine - I’ve wanted to go to Amsterdam for a long time, I have a whole itinerary.” </p><p>Well, Johnny wasn’t exactly worried that they would get <em>bored</em>. </p><p>“No I mean, this - you coming to my dorm and us getting on a plane together hours later? That’s…” Johnny shakes his head to himself, fixing the beanie on his head. </p><p>“Well, I was going to stop by Sicheng’s dorm first, but I know he has a group project he needs to finish,” </p><p>“So I’m your second choice?” Johnny huffs. Ten laughs at him and playfully hits his arm. </p><p>He’s pretty when he laughs - he’s pretty all the time actually, but Johnny doesn’t like to dwell on it. When he’d first met Ten he’d considered it briefly, the boy right his type - but he’d made it very obvious that he was in no way interested. </p><p>From what Johnny gathered, Ten wasn’t really interested in anyone, he was just here to fuck around on a London campus and have the time of his life, away from his home in Bangkok. Most exchange students were here for that exact same reason and Johnny couldn’t blame him. </p><p>The flight is not even an hour and before he knows it he’s exiting the plane in Amsterdam. It’s a strange mix of people, business men with stern faces and youth with shining eyes excited for a big city full of secrets. Johnny supposes he falls into the latter category, except he’s strangely calm under all of it, comfortably following Ten around the airport. </p><p>Ten has a data plan that covers The Netherlands, which means he’s in charge of navigating. They catch the train from the airport to Amsterdam Central. It’s after midnight but the train is just as packed, and they stand huddled with their backpacks by one of the exits. </p><p>The hostel is a five minute walk from the station. Its entrance serves as a bar, a rowdy hangout with lots of languages spoken, young people mingling over bar tables. Hostel rooms are always really simple and this one is no different: a double bed shoved into the corner, a tiny nightstand with a power outlet and a little chair in the other corner. There’s a lacklustre tulip painting on the wall, and the curtains are dusty - but it’s just right for two nights. </p><p>They decide to go down for a drink. It’s a little after one a.m. and Johnny’s growing tired even if the time difference is technically in their favour. </p><p>Heineken is the local beer and Johnny thinks it tastes like watered down Budweiser, but for the sake of the city he cheers on it happily with Ten. </p><p>“To Amsterdam,” Ten says. A layer of white foam covers his upper lip after he finishes taking a sip. Johnny didn’t bring his camera down for nothing, so he quickly snaps a photo of it before Ten has the chance to wipe it away. </p><p>It’s what Johnny likes taking pictures of the most, people. Sceneries and objects could tell stories, but when he thinks back to places he always remembers the faces of people he met there. They give him the memories, feelings - everything that only a <em>good</em> photograph can pull out of people. </p><p>A young man strikes down by their table only a few minutes later. He easily starts up a conversation with Ten and Johnny merely watches as they chat about what to do and don’t do in Amsterdam. Johnny takes a picture of them when they’re not looking, before he focuses on the small details of the bar and the people in it. </p><p>He snaps a series of photos of strangers but comes back to Ten with his beer now half empty. </p><p>“So, is there anything you want to see?” Ten asks. </p><p>Johnny’s a little bit lost in thought, the glint in Ten’s eyes twinkling back at him in the spotlights of the bar. </p><p>“I don’t... “ Johnny says, trailing off. Is there anything he wants to see? “The Sunflowers,” he says suddenly, coming to think of that Van Gogh painting he has a replica of in his house. </p><p>“Van Gogh, right?” Ten asks. “That’s cool, let’s do that tomorrow morning - the museums are supposed to be quieter in the mornings.” </p><p>“Alright,” Johnny agrees, sipping his own beer. “What do you wanna see?” </p><p>Ten hums dreamily. “Everything, but mostly just people, the city - the food. They said the canal cruise was definitely worth it as well.” </p><p>Johnny nods. He doesn’t <em>care</em> where they go. He feels content just sitting here with Ten, drinking beer and making plans. Granted, this journey was anything but planned and it feels a bit contradicting to lay it all out like this, almost like it’s spoiling the trip. </p><p>“Sounds good,” Johnny says, finishing his beer. </p><p>“You want another one?” Ten asks, before he slides off the barstool and orders another two beers at the bar.They keep it to that and at two a.m. they decide they should sleep, hoping to make the most of their day tomorrow.</p><p>At first Johnny thinks it’s going to be awkward, sharing a bed with someone he admittedly doesn’t know too well but Ten seems immune to any sort of fluster. He wears earplugs and an eye mask to sleep, and curls up on the side of the bed shoved against the window, back facing Johnny. He does call a soft ‘ goodnight’ that Johnny barely catches and forgets to respond to.</p><p>That is as weird as it gets, because moments later Ten’s breathing evens out and he’s fast asleep. When Johnny gets in bed next to Ten, he barely notices the other even there, his small body curled up on his side barely making itself known in the sheets. </p><p>Johnny still takes a while to close his eyes and fall into an eager sleep. </p><p>It’s a beautiful morning the next day, except that Ten’s phone rings at seven a.m. to wake them up. Johnny feels the two beers from last night lingering a little bit heavy, but he has no time to feel weary, Ten shoving him out of bed to get out himself. </p><p>He gets changed, brushes his teeth and packs his bag with the bare necessities, dumping the rest out on their bed. It’s a small room and every surface is already covered in their personal belongings. It’s strange to think that just hours early, the room had been empty.</p><p>They take a tram up to the Museumplein, getting breakfast-to-go at a local cafe. The coffee is cheap and tasty and that’s all Johnny wants from his first meal of the day. </p><p>There’s a small queue for the Van Gogh museum which gives them the perfect opportunity to enjoy their hot beverages and the sunlight warming their cheeks in the early morning winter air. Johnny thinks back to his most recent vacations, but fails to think of one where the weather had been this extraordinary, a supposed dull autumn day illuminated in an abundance of sunlight. </p><p>Perhaps it’s the beauty of the paintings inside that cast the rest of the city in a brighter glow. </p><p>The art collection is impressive and the Sunflowers is just one of many, but it gathers a large crowd with its reputation. </p><p>They wait out until it’s their turn, Ten too short to see over everyone’s shoulders yet aching to get a good look at it. When he does walk up to the painting, Johnny is quick to snap a picture of it before he takes a look at it himself.</p><p>It’s a pretty painting, the colours a perfect mix of bland yet bright, soft yet vibrant. Johnny likes it because if it’s simplicity - it’s just a vase of flowers, but it’s captured in colours and angles that make it so complex. It’s the details you only see when you want to, when you really take your time to search for them. </p><p>It’s inspired the little tattoo he has etched onto the skin of his arm. He had always thought he would see it in real life one day, yet never expected it to be today. </p><p>“I like it,” Ten says, “it’s very bright but it’s still warm.” </p><p>Johnny hums in agreement.</p><p>“I have a tattoo,” he explains, patting at his arm. “It’s not the same but, it’s a sunflower. I guess this kind of inspired me.” </p><p>“You do?” Ten asks in surprise. </p><p>“Yeah, got it a couple months ago when I came to London.” </p><p>“That’s cool, I have some too.” He says, but doesn’t elaborate. </p><p>The rest of the museum is beautiful and if Johnny wasn’t burning through the two days they have, he would have stood there for hours just admiring the paintings. He does try to take pictures where it’s allowed, but they get through it in a little over two hours, deciding on lunch after. </p><p>After a typical dutch lunch - one Johnny snaps enough pictures of to share with his foodie friends, they head back to the city centre and decide that the weather is nice enough for a canal tour. </p><p>It doesn’t disappoint, like the stranger last night had promised. </p><p>Ten tells Johnny to sit on the inside of the bench, pressed against the window with Ten on his side. With the window slightly open he can feel the breeze in his hair, and he uses the gap to snap images of the picturesque tall narrow houses peeking out of the blank waters. </p><p>The bridges are so tiny at some point Ten convinces him that the boat simply won’t fit, and Johnny laughs so hard the tour guide asks them to be quiet. They spend the rest of the ride mocking the tour guide to no end, while enjoying the pretty sights of the buildings and listening in on some of the stories behind them. </p><p>After the boat tour they walk through some narrow streets, admiring the street art and visiting the little local boutiques selling overpriced cheese or god-awful souvenirs. When Johnny thinks Ten isn’t looking, he snaps some pictures of him standing in front of mural paintings or looking at the displays of shops. </p><p>It’s not that he’s actively trying to capture Ten, but he always seeks him out as a convenient muse in each photo. Ten’s interesting to capture, his face very expressive and easy to find in the lens. He’s small, and with Johnny’s height advantage he gets a good angle almost right away. </p><p>Sometimes Ten will catch him snapping pictures and make a face at the camera. Johnny will laugh and take another picture, just for good measure and then put the lens away for a while.</p><p>“So I was thinking we could go out tonight,” Ten muses over dinner. </p><p>They’re eating pancakes at a local pancake house, Ten’s with apples and cheese and Johnny’s with custard and berries. It’s a strange meal yet very tasty, another local delicacy they had to try according to the friendly stranger from last night. </p><p>“But I’m kind of tired,” Ten explains, and Johnny sighs happily. He couldn’t agree more, the early morning wearing down on him throughout the day. Setting foot in a sweaty club was the last thing on his mind right now. </p><p>“So do you wanna just go for a walk and then head back?” Ten suggests. Johnny agrees in a heartbeat, treating Ten to dinner because it’s more convenient than splitting the order before heading out the door.</p><p>Out of interest, or perhaps just as an obligatory tourist trap, they walk through the red light district on their way back to the hotel. The streets aren’t much different than the rest of Amsterdam, save for the groups of young men and the change in light colours. </p><p>Ten laughs at most of it, pointing out some ridiculously obscene door signs or window appearances that are too raunchy to actually be appealing. Johnny laughs with him wholeheartedly as they make their way back to the hotel.</p><p>Outside one of many coffeeshops Ten stops.</p><p>“Would you mind if I…” Ten asks, gesturing at the window with lewd weed advertisements. </p><p>“No, go on,” Johnny agrees, following him inside.</p><p>The led lights blare back at them with various selling phrases for what the coffeeshop is really all about, a good and convenient opportunity to get high. Johnny tries to get a good focus with his camera on one of them, catching Ten’s back disappearing inside. </p><p>Their hotel has a no smoking policy, so they finish a joint each outside of the coffee shop, standing together. It’s starting to get cold and Johnny could swear Ten shuffles a little closer, breathing clouds of smoke into the air next to Johnny. </p><p>Johnny’s been high before but it’s been a while ago, the practice<em> technically</em> not legal on campus. The effect is quick and he feels it seep into his bones, the looseness and the careless way in which he dims the cigarette once he’s done with it. </p><p>Ten finishes just moments after, the scent of weed hanging around them heavily - but it’s sweet and heady and a little bit intoxicating as they head back to the hotel. </p><p>It’s just past eleven when they return and while it might feel early for any other night, Johnny thinks it’s a good way to end the day, a little high and a little buzzed from the city they’re in. He’s not tired as much as he’s just worn out, eager to lie in bed and do absolutely nothing but enjoy the high. </p><p>Ten seems to think the same, crashing on their bed and stretching out lazily. Johnny gets his camera out of his bag, lazily clicks through the settings before he snaps a picture of Ten, his hair fanned around like a halo on the sheets. </p><p>He turns his head to the side, searching out eye contact with Johnny, bursting out into giggles when he does. </p><p>“What?” Johnny asks, revelling in the harmonious sound of Ten’s laugh. </p><p>“You’ve been taking pictures of me all day,” Ten says. </p><p>Johnny flushes red. He’s not sure why, because it shouldn’t be a secret - but perhaps he just feels caught. He had hoped he’d been subtle when he sought Ten out with his camera, not because he’s ashamed but because spontaneity is the most beautiful expression of capture, but clearly Ten had been onto him. </p><p>“I like taking photos of people,” Johnny admits. </p><p>“Really? It’s not my dazzling beauty?” Ten hints, a pearly white smile adoring his face. Johnny’s inclined to say yes, it really is the way he looks right now.</p><p>Admittedly, it’s the way he always looks, but Johnny is too shy to even think about that. He only mulls the thought in his head because most of his inhibitions are gone but Ten is attractive, ridiculously so when he’s splayed out in bed like this, his shirt ridden up slightly to show a sliver of skin. </p><p>“It’s not just that,” Johnny admits, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks. </p><p>Ten laughs again, barely registering the compliment. If he does, he pretends he doesn’t hear it, rolling over onto his side to get a better look at Johnny. </p><p>“Can I see your tattoo?” Ten asks after a moment of silence. </p><p>The fluorescent light above them blinks as Johnny yanks up the sleeve of his white t-shirt, the flanel he had on long discarded when the high started making it feel clammy. The little yellow sunflower is quite difficult for himself to see, but he angles his arm in a way he thinks Ten catches it. </p><p>“Oh,” he says softly, reaching out to touch it. “Watercolour? It’s beautifully done,” he praises, gently pressing his thumb down over it.</p><p>“Thanks,” Johnny muses, pulling his sleeve back down when Ten is done. </p><p>Ten sticks out his own arm, pulling up the long sleeve to show his pale skin, adorned in a pretty piece of black ink. At first sight it looks like a pirate ship in front of a setting sun, but the longer Johnny looks the more he starts to see different shapes in it, a shield or a morning star. </p><p>“I like it,” he says, mimicking Tens actions and gently tracing the skin.</p><p>“It’s my own,” Ten says softly, “I drew it, it’s one of my own pieces.” </p><p>“That’s so impressive,” Johnny says, “I didn’t know you did that.” </p><p>“It’s not much - I just draw pieces for friends or for myself, it’s just a hobby,” Ten explains. “I have another one,” he goes on, his hands digging into the fabric of his shirt.</p><p>He lifts it up far enough to show the half moon tattooed on the side of his chest, decorated similarly to his arm piece. It’s positioned beautifully to cover up the slight raised skin of a scar.</p><p>Johnny loves it right away.</p><p>“That’s gorgeous,” he breathes, looking at it in awe. “Is it okay if I…” he asks, holding up the camera to suggest what he means.</p><p>Ten smiles again, that teasing grin that makes Johnny wonder if he’s getting hungry from the high or yearning for something else. He grips the camera tighter in his hands, trying to focus as he peers through the lens while Ten takes his shirt off to give a better view.</p><p>He has to lean down uncomfortably to get a good angle, sliding halfway down the bed to get the lighting he wants from outside. Ten stays perfectly still through all of it, rolling his head back slightly.</p><p>When he’s finally caught an image he’s satisfied with, he’s sitting on the floor. He starts laughing to himself, drawing Ten’s attention back. </p><p>“Get up here,” Ten demands and Johnny obliges clumsily as he gets back in bed and crashes down next to Ten. </p><p>He looks to the side, catching Ten looking back at him. They both start laughing for no reason, and Johnny feels the happy rumble in his chest, his toes curling as he laughs. Ten is no better, hilariously amused by nothing in particular.</p><p>When Johnny looks back up, he can see through the window and up at the night sky. The fog of the city is dense, the city so bright it leaves the sky starless. It’s not much different from London, yet in bed next to Ten, he dares to say the sight is prettier. </p><p>They’d gotten bags of crisps at a grocery shop on the way home, expecting the sudden need for fatty foods to hit right through the second hour of the high. Johnny’s looking at them now, but he’s not hungry at all.</p><p>Instead he’s looking at something else, Ten’s shirtless body next him. Part of him wants to reach for his camera and capture this all over again, but the other part says maybe it’s something he should leave for his eyes to enjoy. </p><p>It seems to be winning, as his lids droop comfortably while he looks down between their bodies, admiring the ink on Ten’s chest. </p><p>“Beautiful,” Johnny catches himself saying again, conspicuously eyeing both the tattoo and everything else that is Ten.</p><p>He swears he hears a <em>purr</em> coming from him, as he rolls over into his side to face Johnny. He’s suddenly a lot closer and Johnny feels small under his trained gaze. </p><p>“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly. There’s a redness to his cheeks that the weed didn’t put there and a teasing undertone to his voice that Johnny hadn’t noticed before. </p><p>He hadn’t noticed Ten’s hand before either, small and nimble as they play with the fabric of the sheets, nor had he noticed the perfect slope of his jaw and the way his collar bones dip when he leans forward, skin stretching taut over them. </p><p>He didn’t let himself look before, but now that he’s encouraged - by what he’s uncertain, he finds himself glancing down at the toned muscles of Ten’s tummy, leading a tiny happy trail into the belt of his jeans.</p><p>His mouth feels like cotton, a common side effect of the weed that’s worsened by the sight in front of him. Subconsciously he licks his lips in an attempt to wet them, fingers digging into the sheets to distract himself. </p><p>Leaning up on his elbows, he can see down the bed, notice where Ten’s small body ends and his shins and feet go on. Ten’s not small in words or actions, but stripped down and pliant like this, Johnny can definitely tell the height difference between them. </p><p>Their eyes meet in a decisive gaze, Ten’s pupils blown wide as he purses his lips. Johnny keeps the eye contact, making it a staring contest of sorts as he sits up a little more to get a better angle. </p><p>Something snaps between them. </p><p>Ten lurches forward to kiss him, mouth warm and needy as he seals it against Johnny’s lips again and again. It rips a needy sound from the back of his throat as he pushes back into the kiss, grabbing Ten’s shoulder to draw him in closer.</p><p>He inhales the deep hazy scent and wants nothing but <em>more</em>, boldly licking into Ten’s mouth to get the point across. Ten indulges him, arms wrapped around Johnny’s neck as they languidly kiss, more tongue and spit than any actual lip action, but it’s good nonetheless. </p><p>Johnny’s head spins, the intensity of it a little overwhelming in his current state, defenseless under Ten’s attention. He pulls back to create some space between them and breathe in some air that isn’t Ten’s intoxicating scent. </p><p>Ten is equally as out of breath, and Johnny takes pride in this, licking his lips before he wipes them with the back of his hand. His limbs feel like jelly with every breath he takes, the high suddenly a lot stronger now that it’s fueled by something else.</p><p>“That…” Ten starts, taking a moment to think. “That felt good, so good.” He drawls sleepily, and Johnny chuckles in the same lazy fashion. </p><p>“Yeah, ‘s good,” he agrees drowsily, but he doesn’t know for how much longer he can keep himself from falling back in bed and passing out. </p><p>“Goodnight Johnny,” Ten murmurs. Before he can say much else, Ten faceplants into his chest, grumbling something incoherently before he’s out. </p><p> </p><p>The next morning they wake up just like that. Johnny’s still stretched out diagonally on the bed, still dressed in his jeans and sweater and Ten is still shirtless, head resting on his chest. Looking at him like this, Johnny sees an entirely new side to him, one that open-eyed Ten doesn't resemble at all. </p><p>He’s always loud and witty, his pointed looks and knowing facial expressions a perfect combination for his sharp features and plush lips. His hand is flat against Johnny’s chest, his face resting on it as he sleeps peacefully, rising and falling with every breath Johnny takes - entirely different from the Ten that Johnny had gotten to know yesterday. </p><p>It’s quiet inside their room, but the window is on glant and lets in the sound of early vendors getting their shops ready, mixed with the lost party goers aiming for an early morning retirement - the city really hadn’t stood still while they slept. </p><p>Ten is unbothered by the sounds, even as someone starts yelling in drunken slurs outside. He shivers slightly, perhaps the chilled air crossing his naked back. Goosebumps rise in the wake of the wind, a beautiful pattern across the paleness of his skin. </p><p>Johnny tilts his head to the side, searching out his phone or anything else to check the time. Instead he spots his camera, resting between the two pillows on the bed. He must’ve been pretty far gone last night to leave it out like this, but now he’s a little bit thankful as he reaches for it and switches it on to check the time. </p><p>Through the viewfinder he also manages to capture the sight in front of him. </p><p>He has mixed feelings about it, the view picture perfect with Ten’s soft expression yet his contradicting sharp features, resting peacefully. He’s completely unaware of Johnny and the camera in his hands and he feels like snapping a picture of this might be intruding on something private, even if he’s technically already in the middle of it.</p><p>Perhaps he’s just enchanted by how Ten can look so soft when he’s asleep, yet reveals nothing of that when he’s awake. </p><p>He snaps the shutter before he knows what he’s doing. It’s a loud click that overvoices everything outside, ringing between the walls of their room. </p><p>Johnny looks to the side to put his camera somewhere safe between the pillows. When his attention returns to Ten, he’s very much awake and looking right up at him. </p><p>“Oh,” Johnny says stupidly, mouth agape as he stares back. </p><p>Ten says nothing. His hands crease into Johnny’s sweater, eyes searching out his gaze. Johnny just captured Ten’s sleeping stillness, but it feels far away already. </p><p>The stare falters into a smile, Ten looking down at his hands and seemingly realising the position they’re in. He carefully rolls off Johnny’s body, resting next to him on his back instead. It reminds Johnny of last night, the way they’d laughed as they’d leisurely enjoyed the high. </p><p>Now with his inhibitions relatively intact, he thinks back to the kiss, how Ten had tasted faintly like sugar, like an addicting spell he couldn’t get enough of. Just like he keeps coming back to snapping pictures of Ten, he thinks he would very much like another encounter with his taste. </p><p>“Good morning,” Ten mumbles. He sounds a little out of it, perhaps startled by the camera shutter so early in the morning. “What time is it?”</p><p>“Morning,” Johnny says. He reaches over to feel for his phone in the sheets and sees that it’s just a little after seven in the morning. “Seven,” </p><p>Ten groans, rolling over once more so he’s on his front, a little further away from Johnny. He raises himself up on his elbows to peek up and out the window and then stretches like a cat, straightening his back muscles to sit up and get a better view. </p><p>Amsterdam is serving them a day of traditional grayness, no sunshine in sight as far as Johnny can see. </p><p>“Well, come on, we have eleven more hours,” Ten then says, gracefully rolling himself out of bed. </p><p>Johnny bites his lip. </p><p>Hearing Ten call out the timeframe of their trip, of this - whatever this is between them, settles a bitter feeling in his tummy. It had felt more indefinite just moments ago, even as they had just slept a couple hours away, the city didn’t sleep and in a foolish moment Johnny thought that maybe that meant there was more. </p><p>Not more time to this day, but more time to this. He’s still trying to figure out what <em>this</em> is and that’s getting increasingly more difficult with the timeframe they’re in.  </p><p>When they’ve freshened up they pack up their bags. Strangely all the belongings scattered around the hostel room seem to fit right back in Johnny’s bag, even as he feels it’s heavier now, loaded with something he definitely didn’t have on his way here. </p><p>Most cafes are still closed at this hour, but they find one that serves fine cappuccinos. Ten uses his spoon to card through the foam, until he’s built a little kitty in it and Johnny can’t help the stupid fond smile on his face as he takes a picture of it, Ten grinning in success. </p><p>As Ten had proven, he’s still really good at making Johnny forget that this is a two-day getaway. He has taken enough photographs of him to make it feel like a lifetime, each one carrying a new memory that Johnny will think back on with a growing range of emotions. </p><p>The weather really contradicts their plans to walk through Vondelpark, because it starts raining as they share their breakfast. Ten, bold as he is, asks the cafe owner what they should do in Amsterdam now that the weather’s not on their side. </p><p>The man asks if they’ve been to Anne Frank’s house. Ten mentions the hour long queues that he read about online and that they didn’t come here to wait. The owner agrees, but also says that it’s Sunday morning and that now is their best shot at getting in without a wait. </p><p>So that’s where they head after their breakfast. It’s not with the same excitement as yesterday, instead Johnny’s anticipating something much heavier. </p><p>The owner hadn’t been lying, as they’re let in right away, only stopping to buy tickets. It’s a strange place to be in, he thinks, as there’s so much heavy and bad energy layered in the walls. He thinks a monument or museum is really the only way that this building could serve any purpose, the atmosphere chilling when they go inside. </p><p>He leaves his camera in his bag, thinking there’s really no need to add to the hundreds of photographs that are already exhibited. They, together with the book that Johnny had read back in school when he was younger, tell a whole different story that isn’t anyone else’s to touch upon. </p><p>The exhibition has captured this in the most respectful way. Johnny and Ten are silent as they walk through the rooms, stop to read the little details and stories. Most of the rooms are bland and grey, the lighting only really capturing the little notes to be read. They tell little stories of the fear and anxiety the past inhabitants used to live with, but also the small anecdotes of their daily lives, of homework and losing teeth and all the normalities children go through, war or no war. </p><p>It sets up the same premise of the book, a young girl with a crush and a seemingly <em>normal</em> life, interrupted by a world war raging outside. Back when Johnny read the book in school, the point their teacher had been trying to convey was just this. Eventually it was <em>people</em> behind everything, great or ungreat as historical events might be, there’s always a real person behind it.  </p><p>When they get up in the secret annex the air changes. Suddenly all conversation falls silent between the groups of visitors and every step they take feels like another threshold to overcome. Johnny nearly hits his head on the bookcase, underestimating just how small the passage really is. Ten notices but doesn’t say anything - the silence of the room too intimidating for any words.</p><p>The atmosphere is suffocating throughout all of the tiny rooms of the annex, the sparse pieces of furniture staring back at him lifelessly. It’s difficult to comprehend that they’re pieces of someone’s life that once used to serve purpose, abandoned and destroyed in such a gruesome way. </p><p>Johnny doesn’t need to take photos of it to capture the feeling. It’s painful just to walk through, something so eerily haunting following them every step of the way. He’s sure the feeling will stay with him everytime he thinks back to this place. Imagery of it is entirely unnecessary as the feeling presses heavy on his chest.</p><p>It’s not just that he <em>knows</em> this used to be a place heavy with emotions, it’s that everything in it screams just that. It leaves him speechless, overwhelmed to a point where the walls start feeling too small. When they reach the kitchen and the exit sign hangs over the door, a wave of relief rushes over him. </p><p>He feels like he’s been holding his breath for the entirety of the tour when they finally reach the exit. Ten looks equally as lost, his sharp and quick demeanor completely vanished as he stares at one of the guest books by the exit. They don’t write anything in it and leave the building quietly. </p><p>Outside it’s cold, the drain drizzling on them, but the fresh air feels good on Johnny and he sucks in a deep breath of it. Dirty as the city air may be, he still feels a lot better now that they’re outside - perhaps a little <em>guilty</em>. </p><p>Ten’s standing in front of him. The sleeves of his jacket reach over his hands as he curls them up. His entire posture suddenly seems much smaller, his feet nudged together as his knees wobble. It’s a little unsettling to see and Johnny is about to ask him if he’s okay, when Ten beats him to it.</p><p>Suddenly he turns around, launching forward and throwing his arms around Johnny’s neck. Johnny stumbles a few steps backwards, out of the way for other visitors exiting the building, but wraps his arms back around Ten’s waist. Ten buries his head in Johnny’s scarf and hugs him tightly, Johnny’s hands gripping Ten’s jacket to hold him close. </p><p>He grounds himself in that, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Ten’s head, inhaling the soft hostel shampoo scent. </p><p>“Sorry,” Ten apologises shakily when they pull away. He looks a little less pale, but still nervously fiddles with the sleeves of his jacket.</p><p>“Don’t be,” Johnny says, shaking his head. “It’s okay, that was a lot.” </p><p>“I just thought about the reason that I wanted to get away, and it seemed so ridiculous compared to…” Ten gestures at the building, at everything they’ve just seen. </p><p>Johnny hums understandingly. </p><p>Ten hadn’t told him the reason he wanted to get away. For the first few hours of their trip, Johnny’s naivety had believed the spontaneity of it, that Ten really just wanted to fulfil his european travel goals. </p><p>But the more time went by, the more Johnny noticed the conflicted expression Ten had sometimes. It’s in secret when Ten thinks Johnny isn’t looking - a rare occurrence for someone as observant as Ten, but there’s a hinged sadness to him at times. </p><p>He didn’t want to think about it too much, because it wasn’t his business. If Ten wanted to get away from that on a trip with him, then Johnny wasn’t going to bring it back to him. </p><p>He wasn’t going to ask, but last night when they kissed Ten had felt out of it at some point, like his head hadn’t been in it. He took it as his cue to stay away, worrying that he might be taking advantage of Ten’s vulnerability as he kept kissing him. </p><p>It’s why taking the photograph had been so loaded, even more so when it woke Ten up that morning. </p><p>“At the end, I really wanted to get out - I felt so guilty when I was relieved to see the exit sign,” Johnny admits, offering a little piece of vulnerability himself.</p><p>Ten smiles.</p><p>“I felt that too,” he agrees. “But I’m glad we went, it’s an important memory to have, I think.” Ten says. </p><p>Johnny couldn’t agree more. It’s initially what had drawn him to Europe for his exchange. Where he came from everything was new, built on late stage capitalism that didn’t care for cultural history. Europe wasn’t much better nowadays, but it still lived under that historical glow of greatness that they struggled to maintain. </p><p>In moments like this, Johnny thinks about photography as a way to capture - but not conserve, a means of reliving a non-permanent feeling. He will look back at the photo he took this morning with a different view now that Ten’s opened up a little. </p><p>They’re quiet as they walk together, not heading anywhere in particular, just strolling the streets in hopes that it will take them somewhere. The soft drizzle on their head doesn’t bother them much, not enough to buy an umbrella. </p><p>They end up at Dam’s Square, not even a five minute walk later, yet an entirely different world compared to what they’d just seen. There are activists with brochures, live statue cosplayers trying to make a living and newspaper boys trying to advertise their headlines. </p><p>The Dam Palace is beautiful, and they get a good look at it by taking a walk around it. Johnny does get out his camera, but most of the images are from bystanders or locals too busy on their phone to notice the picturesque atmosphere. </p><p>Amsterdam doesn’t front itself as a war or disaster struck city, but in the cracks of the pavement it still bleeds out. He wishes he could capture it, but it’s nothing more than a feeling, a hint that this place, too, had something terrible happen to it as he reads about the massive monument serving as a centerpiece on remembrance day.</p><p>They opt for something happier then, a local shop that sells all things cat related. It sells everything you can think of, but in cat shape. Johnny enjoys it, if only for the way Ten’s face lights up when he sees something he likes. There’s a cat plushie that looks just like one of his cats back at home, or so he says with a hint of melancholy to his voice. </p><p>“You miss home?” Johnny asks him in the middle of the shop, looking at a mountain of cat plushies.</p><p>Ten shrugs.</p><p>“Sometimes,” he admits, squishing the cheeks of a cat plushie with an abnormally shaped head. “I miss the weather and my cats, mostly.” </p><p>Johnny laughs wholeheartedly, thinking fondly of what he misses at home. He does miss the lack of rain, but mostly he misses his mother’s food and bringing his laundry home on the weekends. </p><p>“It’s actually what I was upset about,” Ten admits when they walk out of the shop. “My parents bought me plane tickets to come home for the holidays, but I really don’t want to.” </p><p>“Oh,” Johnny says. He gets it. His parents had offered the same thing, saying he should be home to celebrate Christmas. He gets why they want him back home, but he had hoped they understood why he wanted to stay back. Transatlantic flights weren’t cheap, so they’d eventually agreed to let him stay. </p><p>“I like it here, I feel like it’s…” Ten looks up at him, searching for words. “It’s just one year, and I want to enjoy it as much as I can.” </p><p>“Yeah, I get that,” Johnny agrees. “I really haven’t done any of the things I said I would while I’m here.” </p><p>“Me neither,” Ten giggles. “Well, now I have done one of them.” </p><p>“A spontaneous city-hopping trip?” Johnny asks. “Where else do you want to go?” </p><p>Ten doesn’t need to think about it, the answer almost instant. “Paris,” he says dreamily, “but I’d want to go with a lover, because it’s romantic.” </p><p>“I’ve heard that it’s depressing, because couples go there with high expectations - but it’s nowhere near as romantic as they imagine,” Johnny says.</p><p>“Well maybe <em>they’re</em> just not very romantic.” Ten counters. “I think people probably expect too much, it’s just a city, it’s the person you’re with that gives it feeling.” </p><p>Johnny swallows thickly, his mouth dry as Ten’s words sink in. His bag feels heavy on his back with the hundreds of pictures he’s taken of Ten. </p><p>“You’re right,” he admits. “Paris, and then?” </p><p>“Stockholm,” Ten says. “I’ve heard that it’s very mundane and boring, but I would like to go in the summer, the archipelago is supposed to be beautiful.” </p><p>Stockholm’s pretty high on Johnny’s list as well, a city with an abundance of beautiful views. Anytime someone sends pictures to the exchange student group chat from their Stockholm city-trip, it’s always pretty sunsets and long coastlines, topped only by snowy landscapes. </p><p>“Would you want to see the Northern light?” Johnny asks, because that’s what comes on his list after Stockholm. </p><p>“No,” Ten says, shaking his head. “I’ll believe it from the pictures I’ve seen. I really don’t like the cold. It’s bad for my skin.”</p><p>“Okay, I’ll take some pictures for you then,” Johnny promises.</p><p>“Without your favourite subject?” Ten says, gesturing at himself. “You think you’ll find new people to capture?” </p><p>Johnny laughs it off. </p><p>“I think I’ll manage,” he promises. He’s been spoiled the past few days, the subject of interest following him around and carelessly posing for everything he’d wanted to capture, but that doesn’t mean he can’t go back to searching out strangers on the street.</p><p>They head back towards the train station, the day closing in on the evening. On their way they stop for some food, both getting a serving of fries in the most Dutch fashion possible - with mayonnaise. Johnny doesn’t hate it, but Ten grimaces as he tries it and struggles to swallow it, claiming that it’s the grossest thing he’s eaten all weekend. </p><p>Johnny makes sure to get a picture of that too. </p><p>Ten sits by the window on the flight home. It’s dark outside so there isn’t much to see and when Johnny asks Ten something during the flight he doesn’t get an answer, realising that Ten has fallen asleep. His forehead is pressed against the window as he sleeps and Johnny let’s him be, only waking him up when the flight attendant starts calling for seatbelts on. </p><p>They wait for the underground on the platform together, both tired from the weekend and running on their last batteries for the day. It’s strange to be back, still basking in the afterglow from their trip, but also just two students waiting for the train. </p><p>Johnny thinks about it as they stand together on the tube, seat scarcity still a problem even at eleven in the evening on the line that runs by campus. They’re back to normal now, just Ten and Johnny that know each other from freshers week and from the international student activities. Ten and Johnny that strike up a conversation at parties when they conveniently run into each other, Ten and Johnny that are acquaintances at best. </p><p>It’s a strange thing to come back to, when this weekend had felt so much different. Travelling together, Ten had been approachable and <em>real</em> - but now they’ll go back to the rushed <em>hi</em>’s when they pass each other in the hallways on campus.</p><p>Maybe they’re just that, <em>travel buddies</em>. Johnny grimaces at the idea, thinking it’s what people use when they don’t like each other but hang out for convenience. </p><p>And that’s precisely the problem - he likes Ten. </p><p>The interest he had stifled the moment they met was back tenfold now that he <em>knew</em> what Ten was really like, how interesting he was behind the bold and cheeky facade. He could’ve gone his whole life without knowing Ten likes museum dates, that he creates art, that he has tattoos that Johnny can’t stop thinking about, that his eyes bunch up into crescent moons when he laughs, what he looks like after he’s been kissed and he would have been just fine.</p><p>Except now he knows, and he can’t <em>forget </em>that.</p><p>The image of Ten asleep on his chest is not just stored in his camera, he thinks of it a little too often when he steals a glimpse of Ten. It’s foolish, because two people that only kissed once out of curiosity when they were stoned generally aren’t considered for happy endings. </p><p>Ten certainly doesn’t seem to think so, briefly hugging Johnny goodbye when they have to part ways outside of his dorm. </p><p>“Thanks for doing this with me,” Ten says. There’s a sincerity to his voice that makes Johnny feel guilty that he was asking for more to begin with, when Ten is already so openly unattainable. He feels like an idiot. </p><p>“Yeah, thank you for asking me. I had a great time,” Johnny says back, smiling to convey the message. His heart still feels heavy, but that’s <em>his</em> problem.</p><p>“Alright, I’ll see you around,” Ten calls, before he’s slinging his bag over his shoulder and heads inside the building. </p><p>Johnny walks back to his own room in the darkness of campus, returning with a sour feeling in his heart. </p><p>It’s not that he hasn’t had a great weekend, so he feels like an ungrateful brat for wishing for more than he got. It’s not how his mother raised him, and he grumbles to himself about it as he goes around the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, his hands ice cold from the wind outside. </p><p>He retrieves the memory card from his camera, opening his laptop up on his lap. Normally he likes to wait a couple days to let the impressions land in his head before he opens the images up, but now he’s eager to look at them, eager to see that one picture that’s been haunting behind his eyelids every chance it gets. </p><p>He only has half of the images on this memory card, the extra one he brought safely stored away in one of the pockets of his backpack. He opens the zipper, taking out the little black case with the card, but finds it wrapped in a receipt. </p><p>Pulling it out of the bag, he frowns as he folds it open, reading that it’s the receipt of the beers they had on that first night. He didn’t even remember taking it with him upstairs and he mindlessly puts it down on his nightstand. In the faint light from his night lamp he can see there’s something else scribbled on it as it curls up, and it catches his interest, snatching the piece of paper back. </p><p>He unfolds it out on his leg, his mouth falling open in shock once he sees what’s on the other side of it. </p><p>It’s a black and white version of the Sunflowers, except very characteristically adorned in little starshaped details. He recognises the drawing style from Ten’s skin, an exceptionally distinguishable detail being the little moon hanging from one of the leaves. </p><p>His heart hammers in his chest at the realisation. Ten must’ve wrapped it around the case with his memorycard so he <em>knew</em> he would find it, probably right at the time he was unpacking his bag - just a little after he came back home. </p><p>Maybe he reads too much into it, but the idea that Ten placed this beautiful drawing right there on the memory card that held so many pictures of him - Johnny exhales shakily at the thought. </p><p>He really is an idiot. </p><p>He’s cold again when he shows up at Ten’s doorstep five minutes later, hands shoved down in his pockets and hood hanging low over his head to shield himself from the wind.</p><p>Ten answers the door in his pyjamas, looking a little surprised to see Johnny there.</p><p>“Hey, did you forget something?” He asks, frowning at Johnny. </p><p>Johnny lets himself in to escape the cold, taking off the hood of his jacket as he walks into the tiny bedroom that looks much like his own. </p><p>“Yeah,” Johnny says, nodding to himself. He takes his hands out of his pocket and instead grabs Ten’s, stepping up  closer to him until their toes are touching. Their eyes meet in a soft gaze, Ten’s eyes blinking back up at his. “I forgot something.” </p><p>He leans down to kiss him, hand coming up to cup Ten’s jaw and angle their lips together. His lips feel soft, the kiss shy and timid compared to what happened back in Amsterdam. The kiss is different but Johnny’s heart races all the same, languidly pressing his lips back against Ten’s to taste his lip balm. </p><p>He’s breathless when he pulls away, leaving Ten in a similar state. </p><p>“Would you like to look at flights to Paris together?” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come see me on twitter @ohsunwrites</p></blockquote></div></div>
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